- When Man Discovered Fire
It was nighttime. The darkness would hide what Denela was about to do. She brought the bucket outside and dumped its contents into a corner of the yard. There were several plastic containers from soft drinks, empty foil and plastic sachets from shampoo, vinegar and soy sauce, sardine and corned beef tins, plastic bags and ...
- The Feast of the Inebriated
It is colonial heritage. Apolonio followed the tradition of his ancestors. He butchered 5 native chickens. They were about a dozen more from 3 or so clutches of eggs that hatched in the end of winter. 5 is enough to make stew and there are more for other special occasion until December. There are some ...
- Happy Happy
That’s what they called it, happy happy, the alcoholic interludes
Tainted with nicotine delights, the pseudo-fiesta fares foraged from
The Gardens of Others, cooked over fires burning from sinful woods
Stolen – no – taken, from the old woman who died of a weak lung
Because they poisoned the country air with their happy happy.
They had lights that ran ...
- Acts of Fashion
There would not be a few who could remember that elderly woman
Squatted at the door of her house, reciting the litany of evils
That was coming to the village, it was poetry, it was tradition, no one
Rebukes it yet no one shuts the window view to the glowing thrills
Of the progressive life, the many indestructible objects ...
- An Introduction to the Short Poem
I am hunted and there is time to write a poem about it, here in the refuge
Of a forest thick with the calls of birds telling me there are too many of my
Enemies and too few of my kind still alive; might I be saved by the deluge
In the distance or the gun in my ...
- Absent Without Pay
Sorry, I was distracted by the windfall of hog plums and did not realise the time
Spent on, wasted on, the observance of the beautiful shape of spots on my lover’s
Face; so now I am full of fruit and grace, antihelmithic and adoration, both supine
And upright, depending on where you are coming from; never mind, whatevs,
- The Café
The café was where he saw her again, the place familiar to them both
a place expected but unwished, for only a matter of time to be stricken
of the rigor mortis of his arteries, he wondered did she not, did she see
did she ever but he will never really know until the blood starts flowing
once more, ...
- The Hovel
His house was a hovel, a permanent reservoir of the scent of
cheap wine and wild berries chewed, the seeds spat on the floor
with the butts and foils of cigarettes, the fire outside a permanent
encampment of fish, game and some time hock from the market
when there is money to buy, otherwise, there is enough in the
- My Golden
There is a woman currently in psychiatric ward number nineteen hun
dead and famished is her heart, her prostituted heart, the cardiac ar
rangement that take place between patron and prostitute, that trans
vestite in her mind, the sins she should never be guilty of, endless mir
age of miracles and the many years back upon which she gazed
The winter breeze numbed his hunger but not the bullets
That lined the pocket hidden deep on his side all metal
Bearing bombs cradled in a peaceful slumber like pullets
Waiting for the egg to fall the cock to call the cum cumall
The opportunity to hatch !bam! in the head of the quarry
And to flee with empty pockets ...
- Memento Mori
The coconut trunk I left for dead has hollowed itself to
The rhythm of white ants, leaving a shell of pale earth
Mimicking the mud on swine as the sun beckons who
Loves me after the rain with a bowl of mais to the heath
We guzzle our morning meal then play rooting searching
Turning over the vegetation until we ...
- The Poet Anonymous
There is magic in the pressurised air of the Udderground
Aground of wordly machinations where the magic happens
In way of Error: Poem Not Found in way of Poet Not Found
In the Udderground Game of Tit-for-Tat and human kindness
Hence the prisoner’s dilemma plays out once more for thee
Whence the poetry factory never sleeps its frenzy its madness
- Drama in the Boondocks
I am no woman of the boondocks and yet now here I
Am bewildered owner of five hectares of agricultural
Land with a view of the sea and thank heavens high
Ground away from both inundation and the proverbial
Giant of the mountain top where now my vision blurs
At the sight of Charlie halfway up the coconut tree
Amidst the ...
Here is a slender noose that runs down from neck to brassiere
Made of silk and cashmere and upon it is a lightweight bodice
Lace in fine cotton yarn, now if you pull that noose you still
Need to unravel the length of lace round beneath my breasts
And the loop that goes over the back of my neck ...
At the end of polite dinner conversation there is sometimes this
Appetitive where brutish behaviour manifests typically in coitus
And related rituals, yes, the cool diplomatic regard with which
Men and women of high pedigree consider one another puts
Delight in brutal fucking and burlesqueries, surely it heightens
The pleasure when there is restraint and so you must take
Your time, ...
- Sorry I Don’t Masturbate on Webcam for Boyfriend
Wistful, I was awake when the alarm went, and, I, watched
The two dots, blink, switched off after the first beep, then took
The time to appreciate the glow of dawn, first light, snatched
A towel and washed, primed myself a bit for that dreamy look
That morning ritual with the webcam at my bedside; smile, he
Says hello and ...
- Le Prix du Wank
We were early inhabitants of Usenet, the Internet of chatty things
And because we were colonised and subdued by America we spoke
Their English with proficiency, we learned their vernaculars in films
And soaps, and we sometimes believed that we were white, we broke
Into chatty laughter and displayed uncanny intelligence intensifying
Our feminine allure almost masculine, we silenced the ...
I used to think that the very first ray of light was a great
Mystery, an untold story that I had to seek and unravel
For the day, but these days I awake and drag my weight
Out of bed, the light had long passed, nothing to marvel
But merely the faint hope that I would not be reminded ...
- The Ultimate Art
Under capitalist democracy there exists the deep anxiety
Of the artist who is never able to escape the role afforded
Him by the plutocrats that has divided his beloved country
Into two classes, wolves and sheep, a hierarchy regarded
With much merit, a fate most inescapable in the industrialised
World where the artist’s identity is defined by what he does
- Civilisation and Two Forms
The culmination of the various means of forced labour
Against the capitalist diktat of a great western civilisation
May take on two related forms as I have witnessed for
Two decades passed with each a struggle into cessation
Of all psychological and physical activism against the state
They pray the system submits to a collective suicide yet
Until then there are ...
- Seduction Fail
Please, if I sit before you and bare my legs perhaps
I am interested in something, and you must look, open
Those insipid eyes and see, it is sunset a short lapse
Of time and you will miss the reflection of redemption
On my thighs, when the shadows grow long it won’t
Be the same, yes, my cunt prefers the ...
- A Conversation with T. Merton
And as expected, the devil knew and came to practise
Non-violent resistance donning the badge of the pariah
Yet the shining privilege of one who has sold out glint
Not of the pariayar but of the Pharisee’s high moral ideal
Where non-violence is craftily employed as moral force
A subtle provocation devised to expose the evil of Other
And the justification ...
The breeze came with the footsteps of the enemy
Upon dry vegetation of the south-east, his head
And shoes burned under the morning sun, and he
Heard their guns cock before their fingers held
Between the steel and sweat in a very bad dream
He saw his friends beneath a hail of imaginary
Bullets, he saw the top of all their ...
She wasn’t his type, a rather large homely woman, pulpy
On the cheeks and breasts and yet he decided to give
Himself the benefit of a fuck he rightly deserved certainly
After being the most considerate bastard yet they leave
They always leave and he couldn’t understand why what
The fuck do they want do they need if he had ...
There never seemed any closure to the broken strings
In his life, he knots the pieces together but his heart hurts
In the night when the dream comes, the vision that brings
The sham that keeps him alive, he stood naked, the welts
On his chest throbbing like a gaping wound and he walked
A narrow corridor its walls decorated ...